The Roof
by Nola
Summary: The story of how Hermione finds love in Harry and then has to let it go. Inspired by the song "The Roof" by Mariah Carey. Sorry for the delay - I'm changing some of the ideas I had originally. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon.
1. Prologue

For the last time ever, Hermione entered the Astronomy Tower with a careless flick of her wand and a simple whisper of "alohomora", crawled through the hidden passageway she had discovered in her third year but had told no one about, and climbed over the ledge of a tiny window that overlooked the Hogwarts grounds. She settled herself comfortably against the cool bricks of the roof she had walked out onto and absentmindedly studied the hooting owls that were flying overhead, clutching letters in their talons. For the last time ever, she was experiencing the astounding beauty of the way Hogwarts looked at night. Tomorrow was the last day of her seventh year, and in the morning she would board the train home and never come back.  
  
Hermione loved it here, on the rooftop of one of the highest turrets in the castle. For seven years, it had served as her one niche of solitude, a sort of sanctuary where she could be alone at night with her wandering mind for as long as she preferred. Nobody, not even Filch, knew about this place - that is, except for Harry (and probably Fred and George, but they had long since graduated Hogwarts and started their own wizard joke shop in Hogsmeade).  
  
Tonight, she had come here searching for the kind of solace that is found in nostalgia, the kind of comfort that lies in reliving moments of joy even when you're surrounded by pain. She had come here once again to reflect upon the memories of her seven years as a witch-in-training, seven years spent with a person who had meant the world to her. He was the reason she was here again; it was his memory that she had come out onto the rooftop to cherish. One particularly vivid memory stood out in her mind, so she closed her eyes and transported herself back to that time, just two autumns ago, when she had stood in the exact same spot she was now and had found a love that she'd never dreamed possible. 


	2. The Confession and the Kiss

(a/n: This is a flashback that Hermione is thinking of while she's on the roof... actually, the rest of the fic will be her flashback until the very end. Forgot to mention that, sorry if I confused you!)  
  
Tears flowing freely from her eyes, Hermione burst out onto the ledge of the Astronomy Tower, in desperate need to be alone. The fierce wind and torrential rain battered her face and billowed her robes around, but she barely even noticed. She just had to get out of there... out of the Gryffindor common room, away from Ron.  
  
She heard footsteps following her, and, thinking it was Ron, she turned her head away sharply and told the person to go away.  
  
"Surely you don't want to be out here all alone?" the person replied, but it wasn't the voice she'd expected.  
  
She turned around and saw, not Ron, but Harry stepping out over the ledge towards Hermione. His robes were soaked through from the rain and clung tightly to his body. Hermione trembled as she watched him draw nearer, and only partly out of coldness.  
  
"Look at you, you're freezing..." Harry said, pretending not to notice her silence and the look of dazed fright on her face. He wrapped his cloak around her to try to stop her from shivering, but since the cloak was as drenched as she was, it only hung heavily on her shoulders to no avail. Still, she clasped it around herself tightly in appreciation. She didn't have to ask how Harry got here - she could see a corner of the tattered, yellowed Marauders' Map sticking out of his pocket.  
  
"Thanks," Hermione whispered, glad that the rain hid the tears she'd been shedding. "You didn't have to come here, though." Harry shrugged as if to say that following his upset friend out onto the highest ledge of Hogwarts castle in the middle of a rainstorm was no big deal.  
  
"Tell me," he said patiently, giving her an attentive and understanding look, "why did you run out on Ron back in the common room? He's sitting there wondering why you reacted so... dramatically... when he suggested that you spend some time with him rather than study... he is your boyfriend, after all."  
  
"Because..." Hermione took a deep breath, wondering how to voice the words that circled in her mind and caught in her throat. She opened her mouth again, and out spilled all the troubles and doubts that were plaguing her. "Because it showed that he doesn't really understand me. If he truly understood me, he'd know how important my education is to me, and how much I need to study for that Potions test. I mean, he says he loves me, and I think that I love him too, but I've always envisioned love as a sort of profound connection... and when I pictured myself in love, it was always with someone who I was on the same wavelength with, mentally. But it's not like that with Ron. And then it finally hit me that I don't really love him. Not the way he wants me to, anyway. If I really did love him, and if he really did understand me, we wouldn't be fighting so much. I'm sorry I reacted so strongly, but it was just like this explosion in my mind that set off so many things I've been denying for such a long time. I just wish I could find someone who loved me the way I picture love to be, but I don't know if that's possible... As a little girl, I grew up hearing all these Muggle stories about fairy tales and living happily ever after... but what if that kind of love doesn't exist, and I'm just chasing after an unrealistic dream? What if Ron really is the one for me, but I'm just pushing him away because he's not as perfect as I want him to be?" She'd been pacing around the perimeter of the rooftop as she spoke, but now she stopped in her tracks and faced Harry. She looked straight into his brilliant emerald green eyes as she said, "Do you think there are people who go through life without ever finding that kind of love?"  
  
Harry just stared at her, startled at her sudden outburst. All the time he'd watched Ron and Hermione together - which had been just about a year, since Hermione had left Krum for Ron in the beginning of their fifth year - he'd had no idea of all the fears and worries building inside of her. She'd hidden them quite well. He'd thought she'd been happy, but now he'd seen all her unexpected emotions poured out right in front of him. He managed to say, "Maybe... but I don't think that will be you."  
  
"But... do you think I should leave Ron?" Hermione asked, her bottom lip quivering as she asked such a bold question.  
  
Harry didn't answer her directly. Instead he fidgeted with his glasses and said, "Ron's my best friend, and he cares about you so much. It would absolutely crush him if he lost you. But... you can't stay in an unhappy relationship just to keep him satisfied."  
  
Hermione turned away from him and gazed at the sky above, as if searching for an answer there. "I don't know what to do." She muttered to herself. She turned back to Harry and said, "I just wish Ron could understand me... I need someone who's always there for me, someone who I can talk to about anything, someone like..." she couldn't stop herself; the words flowed from her mouth, "...someone like you."  
  
Hermione stared past the round black frames of his glasses so that her hazel eyes locked with his luminous green ones, which were currently alight with bewilderment. Harry gulped and stared back at Hermione, surprised to be seeing her in a way he'd never seen her before. The rain made her hair cling to the sides of her face and shine like silk, her face was radiant, her cheeks were rosy with disarray, and she was still breathing heavily from her run out of the common room. Harry couldn't fathom why he hadn't noticed the beauty she possessed earlier. Forgetting the fact that this would only complicate things even further between Ron and Hermione, Harry instinctively moved closer to her, and in one swift motion, he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to hers. And, to his amazement, Hermione kissed him back. The kiss was easy and natural, sweet and tender, and it awoke a deep craving inside of her - unlike anything Hermione had ever experienced with Ron.  
  
Ron.  
  
The thought of him jolted Hermione back to her senses, and she hastily broke the bond between her lips and Harry's.  
  
If she could've spoken, she would've screamed shrilly, "I can't believe we just did that! How could we?!", but she was at a loss for words. So she just threw Harry's cloak to the ground and tore back into the castle without even looking behind her, leaving Harry standing there in a state of stupefaction. 


	3. The Snow Ball

It was all happening in a blur... Hermione couldn't figure out if she was awake or if she was dreaming, but surely this couldn't be a dream, it seemed so real... She was pressed up closely against someone - so close that the perspiration on their bodies mingled - and her sole purpose was to pleasure this person she had her arms around. In a perfectly synchronized choreography of heat and passion, she felt Harry making love to her...  
  
Hermione awoke from her dream in a sweat. She was, to her great disappointment, alone. She was still clothed in her pajamas, and her bed was in a tangle not from two bodies writhing around in it, but one. Regaining consciousness, she sighed and rolled over so that she was facing her dresser, where a rose and a note from Ron were laid. She'd been having this recurring dream about Harry all week, ever since they'd kissed - but without Harry by her side when she awoke, those blissful dreams were more like nightmares.  
  
Not that things were going much better in the daylight hours. Even though Hermione and Harry never spoke of the kiss they shared, there was still a silent but undeniable chemistry radiating between them that brought back vivid memories of the kiss every time she was in his presence. She found that every time she was near him (which was quite often), she couldn't look at his jet-black hair without wanting to run her fingers through it or his luscious lips without having the urge to plant kisses on them, and she couldn't even glance at his robes without having a crazy desire to remove them. She was so consumed by these feelings that it was impossible to look him in the eye, lest she'd start to stammer and stutter incoherently.  
  
But she couldn't avoid Harry, because he spent most of his time with Ron, and avoiding Harry would mean avoiding Ron as well, and Hermione didn't want to worry Ron any more than she had the night she'd ran out on him in the common room.  
  
Hermione reached over to her dresser, picked up the note from Ron, and read it. "Guess who asked Harry to the Snow Ball last night: Cho Chang! It's funny, you'd think he'd be acting more excited about it, but he barely even talks about the dance. Oh well. I can't wait for it - it's bound to be a thousand times better than the Yule Ball, since I get to be with you. Plus I finally have dress robes that are halfway decent. See you in the morning. Love, Ron."  
  
Upon finding out about Cho, Hermione felt an unjustified fury surge through her body, and she crumpled the note up and threw it vehemently to the floor. She knew perfectly well that Harry was not her territory to claim; still, she felt like a sacred piece of Harry had been given to her the night of their kiss, and if Hermione couldn't have him, then no one else should be able to either.  
  
Yawning and stretching, Hermione pulled herself out of bed, dressed in her black Hogwarts robes, and reluctantly made her way down to the Great Hall, where she would inevitably find Ron and Harry having breakfast. She waved to both of them and ran over to the Gryffindor table. Ron greeted her with a kiss, while Harry looked on, unable to mask the slight twinge of sourness in his eyes.  
  
Hermione turned to Harry. "So," she said, trying to keep her voice steady and composed, "you're going to the ball with Cho."  
  
"Yeah, I am," he confirmed, lowering his eyes to avoid Hermione's sharp gaze.  
  
"What's the matter, Hermione?" Ron asked. "Got a secret grudge against Cho?" he grinned to show that he was joking, but Hermione was clearly serious about the matter.  
  
"She doesn't even mean anything to you, Harry... She's just a pretty face, that's all." she spat icily. "She's got about as much personality as shredded boomslang skin. You only like her because she's popular and good at Quidditch."  
  
"In short, everything you're not," Harry retorted, startled by this sudden attack.  
  
Ron gaped, baffled, at their behavior. Normally it was himself and Hermione who were at eachother's throats, and he couldn't understand this unexpected role reversal. Before he had time to ponder on it, however, Hermione stood up, visibly infuriated and offended, and dashed out of the Hall without another word, leaving the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall thick with the echo of bitterness and resentment.  
  
Harry followed her into the entrance hall and grabbed her arm. In an oddly hoarse voice, he told her, "You're just jealous of Cho because you're threatened by her. Afraid that I'm not always going to be sitting around wishing that it's me you're with instead of Ron. But I'm not yours to be with, so you can't make me miserable just because you're miserable with Ron."  
  
He had struck a nerve. Tears glistened like diamonds in front of her hazel eyes, but she blinked them away and jerked her sleeve out of Harry's grip. In a fierce whisper, she said, "I'm not half as miserable as you'll be with Cho. Stop trying to make me jealous, because I know she means nothing to you." She turned away on her heel and ran back to the Gryffindor common room, where she could be alone.  
  
* * *  
  
The next three weeks preceding the Snow Ball passed uneventfully and calmly. Hermione was still with Ron, and although she had to endure watching Harry spend more and more time with Cho every day, she held her head up high and refused to let herself give in to the temptation of picking another argument with Harry where she'd be vulnerable to exposing her emotions and getting hurt.  
  
The Snow Ball took place on a clear, mild night the week before Christmas break. Hermione was up in her dorm, oblivious to the shrieks around her of her fellow sixteen-year-old classmates as they frantically tried to make themselves look perfect for their dates. Hermione surveyed herself in the mirror (which luckily didn't shout any words of disapproval about her appearance). She had long since outgrown the periwinkle dress robes she had once owned, and she now wore an elegant pale yellow gown made out of a fine, wispy material. Her hair was no longer bushy but arranged into magnificent bronze-colored curls that cascaded down her back and shoulders, and shimmering drops of glitter shone on her lips and eyelashes. As she smiled at her reflection in the mirror, she pretended for a moment that she was Harry's date, and it was he who she was about to meet up with as she walked out of her dorm into the Gryffindor common room. But reality forced her out of this fantasy when she saw Ron waiting patiently for her in front of the fireplace.  
  
"You look beautiful," he said softly to her as she approached.  
  
"And you look handsome," she said. It was true; he had bought a new set of dress robes that were a deep midnight blue, giving him a distinguished appearance. Even so, Hermione's gaze flickered across the room to where Harry stood in robes of emerald green that matched his eyes, and a tingle flooded over her body.  
  
As Hermione stepped out of the common room, arm-in-arm with Ron, she caught a glimpse of Cho walking towards Harry and embracing him. Bristling, Hermione felt an intense longing to let go of Ron's arm and run to Harry, pushing Cho aside so that Hermione could throw herself into Harry's arms and never leave them.  
  
Ron and Hermione arrived in the Great Hall, and Hermione gasped in awe at the glorious, whimsical sight that met her eyes. The Great Hall was ablaze with red, green, white, and gold; Christmas colors blended together in seamless harmony, the walls were decorated elaborately from ceiling to floor, and the bewitched ceiling provided a window to the flurries of snow that were falling from the sky in an erratic waltz. It was simply breathtaking. A cheerful, festive song burst out of nowhere, and Ron pulled Hermione onto the dance floor, just a few yards from where Harry and Cho were dancing.  
  
Hermione glared at Cho with an utmost loathing. She hated everything about her, from her straight, fine, gleaming hair to the hem of her flawlessly tailored amethyst-colored dress robes (which, in Hermione's opinion, clashed horribly with the color of Harry's robes). She particularly detested her arms, which were wrapped tightly around Harry's shoulders, her eyes, which were free to gaze adoringly into Harry's, and her mouth, which was smiling warmly at him and might even get to steal a kiss from him at the end of the night.  
  
Meanwhile, Harry watcher Hermione and Ron twirl around the dance floor from over Cho's shoulder with the same kind of burning envy, but he felt no hatred towards Ron. Instead, he felt a sort of sympathy for his best friend; Ron had been betrayed and didn't even know it. Harry also felt sorry for himself. Remorsefully, he thought, "please forgive me, Ron, I've fallen in love with the girl who belongs to you," and he closed his eyes as if to say that he couldn't endure the agony of it.  
  
Cho was attempting to engage him in conversation, but Harry was too occupied with staring raptly at Hermione to give her his full attention. "I saw you in that Quidditch game against Slytherin; you were really great." she was saying. "I heard that Ginny Weasley's a really dedicated team captain, even tougher than Wood was... You're an amazing Seeker to be able to pull off all the moves she wants you to do."  
  
"Yeah, you too..." Harry replied vaguely, his eyes still following Hermione as if they were magnetically attracted to her.  
  
Halfway through the evening, the couples took a break from dancing and visited the tables lined along the wall, which were filled with all the bountiful, tantalizing food imaginable. As Harry helped himself to a Butterbeer, he noticed that Ron was sitting at a table by himself. Harry took the vacant seat next to him. "Where's Hermione?"  
  
"The bathroom," Ron replied, looking miffed. "You know how girls are... they tell you they'll be back in a little while, and then they don't show up for fifteen minutes..."  
  
Harry nodded. "Gotta go," he said suddenly, putting down his untouched Butterbeer and bolting from the table and out of the room.  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione knew she wasn't alone... She could sense someone else's presence, and she heard someone swing their leg over the window ledge and climb out onto the roof, but she didn't lift her head up, because she knew who it was.  
  
"When Ron said you left for the bathroom fifteen minutes ago and never came back, I figured this is where you'd be," Harry said, offering her a weak smile.  
  
Hermione continued to act like no one was there.  
  
"I didn't have fun with Cho tonight, you know." Harry said sharply.  
  
"That's nice," Hermione muttered coldly.  
  
Harry folded his arms. "Why are you acting like the victim here? You're with Ron, remember?! And I didn't ask Cho, she asked me! And the only reason I said yes to her was because I didn't want to spend the evening all by myself in the dorm, feeling wretched, while you and Ron were off having a good time!"  
  
That's when Hermione lost it. In a blind rage, she seized a clump of snow from the window ledge and hurled it deftly at Harry with all her might. "I DID NOT HAVE A GOOD TIME!" she shrieked indignantly. "How could I possibly have a good time knowing that you were in the arms of that - that bitch?!"  
  
Harry didn't take offense to the name Hermione called Cho. In fact, it was quite the contrary; his eyes twinkled mischievously at the idea of Hermione being jealous enough to call his date to the Ball a bitch.  
  
"Think that's funny, do you?" Hermione snapped hotly.  
  
"No, of course not," Harry said, a slight grin twitching slyly at the corners of his mouth as he scooped up the snow that Hermione had thrown at him off of his arm. "But this is." He lobbed the snow back at Hermione, and it caught in her hair, where it sparkled in the moonlight and made her look like some sort of snow queen.  
  
"HEY!" Hermione cried in surprise. "Ooh, I'll get you for that..." Her tone was no longer stern and serious - it was playful. She snatched up more snow and flung it at Harry. He retaliated by grabbing her around the waist and tackling her, causing her to collapse onto the hard brick surface, where they wrestled around, giggling and acting silly. Harry managed to pin her down and he began to tickle her until she was begging for mercy. A wide grin spread over Harry's face, and he found himself wishing that Hermione could be his girlfriend. A stab of guilt panged his heart as he thought of Ron, but he was too caught up in the moment to let it stop him. While his thoughts were wandering, Hermione took the opportunity to break free of his grip and pounce on him. Accidentally, she kissed him on the cheek. The laughter came to an abrupt halt, and they just stared into eachother.  
  
"Sorry," Hermione choked, her voice catching in her throat.  
  
"Don't apologize..." Harry said huskily.  
  
Their faces drew closer and closer until Hermione felt something warm and soft cover her mouth. Their lips had met for the second time. Somewhere in the back of Hermione's mind, a voice spoke up saying "this isn't right", but that voice was quickly stifled when Harry's tongue slipped past her teeth and gently prodded and explored her mouth, which was still tinged with the taste of the Butterbeer she'd drank at the Ball. Hermione softly nibbled his bottom lip, which was moist and smooth. When their lips parted, they gazed at eachother. The only sounds surrounding them were their jagged, heavy breathing and the music from the Great Hall that drifted up to meet their ears.  
  
Hearing the music, Harry pulled Hermione to her feet and said, "Let's dance."  
  
While hundreds of students danced below them in the Great Hall, Harry and Hermione were dancing atop the roof, off in their own secret, clandestine world. Harry was amazed at the ease in which Hermione fit into his arms as if that was exactly where she belonged. "This will be our own special place, okay?" he murmured in her ear. "No one else knows about it here except us."  
  
They rocked gently and naturally to the rhythm, feeling more at ease with eachother than they had ever been with their dates. As Hermione's hands sensually caressed Harry's neck and roamed his hair, Harry became aware of a sudden, involuntary stiffening somewhere beneath his robes, and he prayed that Hermione didn't discover it. He shifted around uncomfortably, trying desperately to control the hormones that were engulfing his friendship with Hermione, but all he could think about was her warm breath on his cheek, her curls of hair resting gently on his shoulders, and how tightly her body was pressed against his, and all these things made him nearly dizzy with stimulation. He could feel his heart beating rapidly, and he was sure Hermione could feel it too, judging by the blush that quickly rose upon her cheeks, making her face glow scarlet.  
  
Harry gulped. "I think we'd better get back to the Ball... Ron's probably worried about you."  
  
Hermione slowly nodded, and Harry could tell by the dazed expression on her face that Ron hadn't even crossed her mind the entire time they'd been dancing. She turned and started off, subdued, back into the castle, once again leaving Harry standing alone on the rooftop struggling to absorb the immensity of what had just happened between them. And Harry didn't see her again until the next day, for he was asleep by the time Ron and Hermione had finished partying. 


	4. Christmas

A fresh blanket of wet, fluffy snow smothered the Hogwarts grounds in pure white glitter and soaked the bottom of Harry's robes as he ambled back to Gryffindor tower after a visit at Hagrid's hut. Tomorrow would be Christmas day. Over the holidays this year, the Gryffindor house was completely deserted except for one other student: Hermione. Even Ron had left to spend his Christmas at the Burrow. Harry remembered the expression on Ron's face as he was saying goodbye to - in other words, embracing and kissing - Hermione; it contained a slight hint of uncertainty and hesitant suspicion. It was clear that Ron could sense that something in his two best friends had changed, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.  
  
Harry arrived in the Gryffindor common room, shaking the snow off of his shoes. Hermione was sitting by the fireplace, absentmindedly watching the hypnotizing flames curl upward. She must have either just woken up, or had been feeling too languid to get dressed, because she was wearing the thin, skimpy lace slip she wore to bed that accentuated the delicate beauty of someone between girlhood and womanhood. It showed more of her skin than Harry had ever seen before.  
  
She looked up at him and smiled, rather self-conscious, and said, "I didn't think you'd be coming back so soon," referring to her reason for her careless choice of dress.  
  
Harry surprised himself by saying, "I'm not complaining," and then went slightly pink after saying it, as if he had only just realized what he'd said.  
  
Hermione laughed a little, but then a solemn look passed over her face. "I've been thinking..." she started.  
  
"About what?" Harry asked, removing his cloak and draping it casually over the arm of a chair.  
  
"About what's been going on." Hermione answered, lowering her eyes. "I don't know if I can handle this. I haven't quite been myself since that night on the roof." She paused, as if expecting permission to continue talking. It was strange how Harry was the only person she could express her deepest emotions to, yet he was so entwined in the situation that created these emotions that it was difficult for her to talk so candidly about them. Nevertheless, she took a breath and went on. "All my life I've been Hermione the know-it-all, always buried beneath a stack of books. I never attempted something I wasn't sure I could accomplish, which is why I never surrendered to the risk of letting myself fall in love. Even when I was with Viktor, and when I started dating Ron, I never let romance get the better of me. But that's because I never felt truly overpowered by it... like I do with you." She fidgeted with the strap of her slip as she spoke, her voice trembling. "The only love I ever felt for Ron is friendship. I've never felt this kind of love before, and it scares me. I've changed. And I think Ron's picking up on it, too. I could see it in his face when he was saying goodbye to me, before he left for Christmas break. I'm not the same, and he knows it. And I don't know what to do."  
  
Harry gazed at her, entranced with sympathy, the love he felt for her mingling with pity. Words failed him; he knew there was no way to articulate his intense desire to somehow protect this fragile, petite figure sitting beside him and relieve her of all harm that could ever befall her way. A wave of overwhelming affection for her swept over him, and he moved into her seat and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight against his beating heart and feeling closer to her than he'd ever felt to anyone, both physically and mentally. She leaned on him, letting her full weight rest in his arms, allowing him to support her and act as her savior. It wasn't only her attire - or lack thereof - that made her feel so exposed; she felt as open and as vulnerable as she would if she'd been wearing no slip at all. Harry was amazed at the amount of trust she felt for him. To feel Hermione hurt made him hurt as well. He couldn't help thinking that he had caused this weakness in Hermione and because it was his fault, he shouldn't be the one consoling her. He felt his heart in his throat and choked, "I'm sorry... You shouldn't have to be going through this..."  
  
"But I'm not the only one going through this," she whispered, her arm sliding around Harry's shoulders. "I don't want you to feel sorry for me... Just like I know you wouldn't want me to feel sorry for you."  
  
After a long, heavy pause, Harry spoke up. "We have to tell Ron." His voice was firm and final in the knowledge that it was ultimately their only choice.  
  
Hermione knew that this was the right thing to do, but still, doubt stirred in her heart - not doubt of Harry's love, nor of their strength as a couple, but doubt of Ron's capability to handle the news. She was frozen by the fear of abandoning the solid ground she'd stood on for thirteen months and leaving her two best friends and herself vulnerable to the pain and loss that came with upsetting the routine she'd followed for so long. Life as Ron's girlfriend was not the happiest of existences she could imagine for herself, but it was safe and comfortable. Straightening up and peering into Harry's captivating green eyes, she said quietly, "Aren't you worried about how Ron will react?"  
  
"Of course," said Harry simply. "But there are things that are more important than fear. Like love. Love doesn't come without risks, and I'm willing to take them, for you... for us. We just have to do what we have to do and see what happens. It's for the best. We'll never know what could've been unless we try, and I don't want to be kicking myself twenty years from now because I didn't have enough guts to tell Ron that you're the only person I can imagine myself spending the rest of my life with."  
  
Momentarily forgetting her anxieties, Hermione's eyes lit up like fairy lights and her lips parted to form a smile. "I am?"  
  
Harry nodded, leaning in slightly so that his forehead was pressed against Hermione's, his face getting warmed by the puffs of air emitting from Hermione's lips. He felt Hermione draw in an excited breath and lean in even further to kiss him, but Harry interjected. "I don't think we should..." Hermione nodded, understanding, not wanting to betray Ron any more than she already had.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry awoke the next morning with someone on top of him, their legs digging into his ribs and their hands gently shaking his shoulders to wake him up.  
  
"Hermione," he yawned, reaching around blindly for his glasses, "you're not supposed to just barge in here... it's the boys' dorm..."  
  
"But you're the only boy in here," she persisted.  
  
"Well, what if I'd been getting dressed?"  
  
Hermione grinned dreamily. "Hmm, that thought didn't occur to me." She rested her cheek on his chest, burying her nose in the collar of his pajamas and inhaling the way warm flannel smelled after being wrapped around Harry for a night. She murmured "merry Christmas" in his ear, which he returned sleepily.  
  
"Come on," Hermione said, sitting up, "let's open our presents." She handed two neatly wrapped packages to Harry. "You first."  
  
The first parcel he unwrapped contained a book called "Quidditch All Over the World". The second was a large book with no title, bound in leather. He opened it and saw a collection of photographs, awards, school papers written on scraps of parchments, and other assorted relics, all belonging to the same two people. It was a scrapbook of his parents.  
  
"I wanted to get you something that would mean a lot to you," she explained, "so with some help from Sirius, Lupin, and Dumbledore, I was able to put this together."  
  
Harry was speechless, but Hermione understood how touched he was.  
  
Next, Hermione opened the presents Harry had gotten her. The first box contained a delicate, dainty silver charm bracelet, bewitched so that the charms moved as if they had lives of their own. The second gift was a book of Muggle fairy tales. Harry explained the latter. "I was in Flourish & Blots, looking for some sort of textbook I could give you. But then I saw this, and I remembered that first night on the roof, when you told me how you heard all these Muggle fairy tales while growing up, and you were afraid that those sort of things don't really exist. But I think that someday I'll be able to prove to you that they do. So I figured you have enough textbooks already, and I got this for you instead, so I could give you something with a more sentimental value."  
  
Hermione smiled broadly, surprised at how thoughtful Harry had been to remember such a small detail she'd once mentioned. "I love it," she said softly as she inched closer to Harry and threw her arms around him. After their hug, Hermione remained curled up in his arms, enjoying the moment. They stayed in that position for a little longer, temporarily detached from the rest of the world.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry and Hermione had forgotten breakfast, so they were hungering for lunch more than usual. The air in the Great Hall was rich with the sumptuous scents of turkey, gravy, potatoes, chipolatas, crumpets, and, for dessert, pumpkin pie, moist and loaded with spices.  
  
Since there were so few people staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, Harry, Hermione, and the other remaining students ate with the teachers. After the feast, Dumbledore led everyone in a boisterous chorus of his favorite Christmas carols, and everyone joined in - except Snape, but Hagrid's booming voice more than made up for his silence. Crackers were passed around and pulled open, and Harry's contained a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Unfortunately, a sardine-flavored bean obliterated the pleasant taste that the Christmas lunch had left in his mouth.  
  
As Harry and Hermione were leaving the Great Hall, they noticed that they were standing directly underneath a sprig of mistletoe, which they were sure hadn't been there when they had entered.  
  
"Hmm, do you think it's a sign?" Harry said, looking half-amused and half- curious.  
  
"I... guess so." Hermione murmured, and Harry leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the lips (as they were still not too far from the teachers).  
  
Hermione broke the kiss with a giggle.  
  
"What?" Harry asked, a concerned look passing over his face.  
  
Hermione blinked. "Your mouth still tastes like sardines."  
  
With the Gryffindor common room and dormitories all to themselves for the rest of the Christmas break, temptation constantly loomed over their heads like an ominous cloud on the verge of letting a downpour of rain burst out of it. But they resisted giving in. Whenever they were incited to take advantage of Gryffindor tower's vacancy, they'd distract themselves by reading from textbooks or the books they'd gotten eachother for Christmas, or sitting in front of the fireplace sipping hot cocoa while discussing lighthearted subjects, but mostly they practiced spells. The provocation was so strong and frequent, in fact, that Harry ended up learning more spells in that one week of vacation than he had learned the entire year.  
  
* * *  
  
Love can make you blind. That's why neither Harry nor Hermione noticed the stony atmosphere that had settled in the Gryffindor common room the evening of Ron's return to Hogwarts.  
  
Ron had pulled Hermione into one arm as he played Wizard's Chess against Harry with the other so that they could snuggle up near the fire, and Hermione had obligingly rested her head on his shoulder. Every now and then, she couldn't help but let her gaze flicker in Harry's direction for an instant, allured by his presence across from her.  
  
"So, Harry," Ron said, after his castle smashed Harry's queen into shards, violently leaving Harry's kind in a helpless position and resulting in a checkmate, "Going to take Cho to the next Hogsmeade visit? It's next weekend, remember?"  
  
"No," Harry answered, "We're not dating. I told her I don't feel that way about her. We're not going to go out anymore."  
  
Ron's eyes grew as wide and round as saucers. "What'd you do that for?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "She just wasn't right for me. I need someone who makes me feel..." he glanced at Hermione, and their eyes connected for an instant. "...someone who makes me feel... complete."  
  
Ron shook his head, in grim disappointment of Harry. "You're mad, you know, to give up a girl like Cho!" he exclaimed.  
  
"If you think she's such a good catch, then why don't you go out with her?" Harry muttered rudely.  
  
"What's with you lately?" Ron exploded in frustration.  
  
Hermione glanced awkwardly at Harry, who cleared his throat and said, "Ron, there's something we need to talk to you about." 


End file.
